


red solo cups

by rosielibrary



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alcohol, Implied Sexual Content, Partying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 19:57:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16839358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosielibrary/pseuds/rosielibrary
Summary: request for ford gettin CRUNK and hittin on you(word of warning: this fic is from 2015 and unedited!)





	red solo cups

There's some reason to celebrate. You aren't sure why, but there is. It's probably a Halloween party, due to the pumpkins you and Soos carved and placed candles in, flickering outside, as well as the purple-pink lights glowing around the room, and don’t even ask about all the brightly colored cups with even more brightly colored drinks inside of them. There’s a celebration, Stan threw a party, and just about everyone (that wasn’t a little kid, but they were trick-or-treating, anyways) was invited.

And those Jersey boys knww how to party.

You’d become a secondary tour giver for the whims and wonders of the Mystery Shack during the Halloween season, and it was one of the most fun jobs you’d ever had. The tourists were oblivious to the entire “conning them out of their money” thing, which you found a little sad, but a little more hilarious, showing them glued-together fake animals and getting a hat full of money for it. Oh, you had the whole get up— maroon fez, ribbon tie, black suit, the whole nine yards. Yours was just a mini version of Stan’s suit, and definitely a lot tighter, which neither of the twins said anything about when you asked them about it.

Stan and his brother Ford were… Interesting, to say the least. After an odd summer involving portals and more twins that were younger, which you’d never met, and a tragic backstory, mostly retold to you by Soos on your break, Ford had come back from sitting inside of a giant portal that was sitting in the basement. Apparently.

Soos’s word probably wasn’t as sound as you took it for, but he’s Soos. He couldn’t say boo to a goosquirrel (”The enigma! The wonder! The unholy matrimony between a goose and a squirrel! That’ll be five bucks for even looking at it, it’s a rare opportunity!”).

But Ford was much less of a talker than his twin brother. He was constantly scribbling in his little red book, dark eyes flickering between the page and you when he came along one of the tours for fun. He still wasn’t sure why he’d let his brother use his house for a tourist attraction, but apparently, he wasn’t as mad at him as he used to be. Or something. Soos again.

He’d ask you the odd question about your stay in Gravity Falls, too. If you’d seen anything weird in the town, anything abnormal. You said you’ve seen Gideon and Stan when his fancy suit’s off, eliciting a snort of laughter from the scientist, but you’d not seen anything other than that. He’d nodded and written something else down, then left you in the gift shop.

Where the party was, you remember, shaking your head and staring across the room— where Ford was staring at you. Awkward. You both look away at the same time and you run into Stan, who had a red cup in his hands to match the red hue to his face.

Oh dear.

“How’s’a party goin’, kid? You havin’ — hic! — you havin’ fun?”

He sways on the spot out of time to the music and you resist the urge to start laughing. He isn’t too drunk, thankfully, but he is definitely well off sober. Stan dances past you towards a little older woman with a flower in her hair and you shake your head at him, downing your drink and going to get a refill.

Plus, Ford was standing by the drinks table, you’d have an excuse to talk to him.

He nods at you when you come up to the table, but doesn’t say anything. Filling your drink with the orange liquid of… Whatever it was, you lean against the wall next to him with a sigh.

“Are you having fun?”

The question he poses is answered with a shrug, and you sip at your drink thoughtfully.

“Not as much as the guy with the pizza on his shirt.”

Said pizza guy was breakdancing in the middle of the floor, attracting a large crowd. Ford laughs, muttering something about the kids today, before turning to you.

“What sort of drink is that?” he asks, tilting his head at it.

“Oh, um… Not sure.” You look down at it too, squinting a little. “Orange juice, I think. Mixed with something. You wanna try?”

His expression says no, but his hands say yes, and his six fingers grab the cup from you— his hand grazes yours when he takes it and you try and not think about how there’s goosebumps on your arm, for some reason— and takes a curious swallow of it.

“It’s… Nice, actually,” he decides, handing your cup back to you and getting his own. “Stan didn’t do too badly at this whole party thing.”

“Apparently he threw one in the summer that involved zombies, so I’d hope this one doesn’t go that way,” you joke, remembering his story about singing the zombies away with his niece and nephew.

The two of you talk and drink as the party goes on, people-watching. You find that Manly Dan was a surprisingly good slow dancer, his little cheerleader Tyler against his chest, and that Lazy Susan could outdrink Stan very easily.

You’d stopped drinking after two or three glasses, but Ford never seemed to stop refilling his cup. It’s after two hours that you notice he’s gone very quiet, his head sluggishly turning from the party to you, studying both with the same amount of wonder.

“Ford?”

Snapping your fingers under his chin, you try and get his attention, to no avail. He’s ignoring you now, for some reason. Had you done something wrong? You bite your lip, watching him carefully, until he suddenly whips around and grabs your hand, pulling you out the door and towards the stairs, where he tugs you up to what you guess is his room— you’d never ventured into the actual house part of the Shack before.

Ford brings you into his room and shuts the door quietly behind you, but he doesn’t explain himself for a good minute. You’re asking him numerous questions about what he’s up to, and you decide he’s probably just too drunk to even realize it and say you’ll help him into bed if he needed you to.

“No.”

“No?” An eyebrow arches. You put your hands on your hips, confused. “Ford, are you alright?”

“Yes, yes, I’m— urp, sorry— I’m fine,” he replies, but his voice is hushed, like he’s telling you a secret. He steps towards you and you’re frozen in time, swallowing as the gap between you changes from three feet to three inches.

You’re not exactly eye to eye with him, but the bottom of his chin comes to the middle of your mouth, so he has to crane his neck to look down at you.

“But I’ve been thinking.” You dare yourself not to break eye contact, even though your hands are shaking from his dark eyes being locked on yours for so long.

“Thinking?” The word comes out as a squeak, the last syllable almost disappearing from your mouth when you feel his fingertips trace up your arm to your shoulder.

“Yes, thinking,” he continues, his voice firm despite how his body sways slightly, like Stan’s did. You wonder what’s happening downstairs at the party.

You don’t really care.

“I know it’s weird, especially from me. But I’ve been thinking a lot about— about you.”

You’re glad he didn’t turn the light on because your face feels like a furnace. Your teeth take your bottom lip between them again, and Ford’s eyes flicker down to your mouth.

Oh. That’s what he’d been thinking about.

Not that you hadn’t been thinking about it yourself. He was handsome, smart, and he held a conversation with you that wasn’t just about work, unlike Stan. You barely knew anything about him that wasn’t about his “tragic backstory” that Soos told you, but you still thought about him a lot more than you probably should.

“About a lot of things involving you. Mostly about what would happen if you were there, w-where you’re standing now,” he says, and you’re not sure if you’re following—

“And if I was here.”

His head dips down under your chin and he starts placing light kisses along your skin, his hands grabbing your hips and pulling your body flush against his. You sigh in pleasure at the warmth and your fingers comb through his hair, your other hand curling around his arm for support. Ford takes you by surprise when he starts biting and you gasp, the sound stifled by his hand.

“I was thinking about what would happen if you said yes to me,” he whispers, his stubble hard against your cheek, the taste of alcohol on his breath. “About what I would do to you if you let me.”

You’re in shock at his bluntness, but you take his hand and peel it off your mouth.

“And what would you do to me, Stanford?”

His smirk is evident against your cheek and he picks you up, twirls you around, and backs you against his door, his hands against the wood at either side of your head. You tilt your head to the side and he goes back to your neck, biting and sucking at your throat until you know there’s going to be a purple mark on your skin in the morning— several of them, it would seem. You go to pull him closer but he takes your hands and holds them down, his lips at your ear.

“Oh, I’d lay you down— anywhere works,” he murmurs, nipping at your earlobe. “And I’d undress you slowly, teasing you. I’d kiss every inch of your body until you’re aching for me, and even then, I’d take my time in giving it to you, just because I can.”

All this from the nerdy scientist that you checked out on the daily. You’d think it was a dream if it wasn’t for how wet you were.

“Yeah? What if we flipped the scene?” His hands had loosened their grip on yours so you grab the lapels of his coat, tugging him against you, but avoiding his lips when he goes in to kiss you. Your eyes burn into his and you smirk at his expression of shock.

“What if I was the one to ask you first? What if I came to you and said, “Mr. Pines, sir, please fuck me mercilessly until I can’t feel my legs?” Hm? Would you be so cocky—“ 

Hah, phrasing. 

“— If I made the first move?”

His mouth had dropped open and the hunger in his eyes was replaced by some sort of dazed look, and he mumbles something under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Say that— Say that again.”

“Oh, Mr. Pines,” you begin, your hushed voice lilting. Your grip on his coat tightens, along with his pants, which you feel against your thigh. “Please, sir, fuck me without abandon until my entire body is numb.”

“Well–” Ford’s hands wind around your body to the bottoms of your thighs, and he picks you up so easily you laugh as the floor leaves your feet, your legs wrapping around his waist when he presses your back against the door. 

“Since you asked so nicely…”


End file.
